Grandma's Grave

I find it so strange that I'm so much more active when I'm not in LA. Perhaps it's because in LA, I work my errands around how bad the traffic will be. Maybe it's because when I'm at home, I always feel like I can put something off until the next day. Either way, neither excuse is valid out here in Connecticut so I'm constantly running around doing something.

Yesterday I went to New Britain to check on Grandma's grave. Sadly, all of the flowers that I planted in April had died and only two barren looking perrenials stood amongst the weeds. I get rather competitive with cemetery decorating. Grandma was always so diligent about tending to Poppy's and her parents' graves. Anytime someone was willing to drive her to the cemetery, she went. Now that Grandma's permanent residence is that cemetery, I've inherited the job of looking after the graves. And I take that job seriously.

Today I came armed with my shovel, watering can, fertilizer, some fancy rocks that I bought for a dollar ("too expensive" is what Grandma would say), and my fresh flowers. I was armed and ready. I even brought two shrimp from when I went to Sunday brunch at her favorite restaurant: one for her and one for Poppy. Hopefully this time I buried them deep enough so the squirrels don't smell them and dig them up again.

In the hour I spent at that cemetery, I could hear Grandma repeatedly saying, "Kristina, be careful! You shouldn't be at the cemetery by yourself. It's too dangerous!" as well as the usual, "Kristina, you need your head examined!" And, just as I had always done when she was alive and worrying about me, I kept right on doing exactly what I was doing with a devilish grin on my face. "I'm fine, Grandma.... I'm fine."